If Things Were Different
by suckr4romance
Summary: HBP SPOILERS! What if, say, Ron hadn’t hooked up with Lavender in HBP? And our One True Pairing had come true? And Ron and Hermione had gone to Slughorn’s party together? If you Believe in Trees, maybe this ficlet is for you. FLUFF WARNING
1. He's Not You

**Disclaimer: **Jo Rowling owns Harry Potter and she wrote quite a bit of the following quotations. I borrow her characters and make no profit whatsoever. You rock, Jo.

**Summary:** What if, say, Ron hadn't hooked up with Lavender in HBP? And our One True Pairing had come true? And Ron and Hermione had gone to Slughorn's party together? If you Believe in Trees, maybe this ficlet is for you.

* * *

**If Things Were Different**

A Ron/Hermione Fan Fiction by Christine, aka suckr4romance

* * *

**Part One: He's Not You**

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" Hermione Granger was practically seething. "You spiked Ron's juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!" she accused an innocent-looking Harry Potter.

"No, I didn't," Harry said truthfully. Ronald Weasley's eyes moved back and forth between Harry and Hermione as they argued.

"Yes you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" Harry said with a wide grin. He then pulled from his pocket the unopened bottle of Felix Felicis. Hermione gaped at him in wonder. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking."

"You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself," he added to Ron.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" said Ron disbelievingly. "But the weather's good…and Vaisey couldn't play. …I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

Harry shook his head. A few seconds later, Ron, having come to the correct conclusion attacked Hermione.

"_You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything!_ See! I can save goals without help, Hermione!"

"I never said you couldn't—Ron, _you_ thought you'd been given it too!" Hermione yelled towards Ron's retreating back.

When he didn't stop, Hermione resolved to complete the task herself.

Leaving a stricken Harry behind, Hermione dashed from the locker room in Ron's wake. "Ron!" she called. She was having trouble keeping up with his long strides. The burden of his broomstick wasn't weighing him down one bit. _Damn athletics_, Hermione thought.

Ron directed his gaze forward, determined not to heed Hermione's summons. Hermione, however, had her own determination. With an unexpected rush of adrenaline, she sprinted to draw level with him.

"Ron, will you stop?" Hermione panted. "I'm really not used to this."

"Used to what?" Ron asked indifferently, still keeping his eyes ahead.

"Chasing after handsome red-haired young men," said Hermione sarcastically. This remark merited a reply.

"No one needs your cynicism right now, Hermione," he said seriously.

Hermione sighed in frustration. "If you'd just _listen_ to me, Ronald Weasley, we wouldn't have that problem!"

Ron merely made a sharp turn to the right, toward the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. "Oh no, you don't!" Hermione leapt in front of him.

"Hermione," Ron quipped warningly, "just leave me be. I don't feel like talking to you."

"But why not, Ron? _Why_ have you been so vile to me lately?" she asked, ostensibly hurt at his unfaltering moody behavior towards her.

"You wouldn't understand," he muttered, averting his eyes to the ground.

"Try me," she challenged him.

"Er…oh, it's stupid," Ron said, more to himself than to Hermione.

"What?" she urged him softly, bringing her hand to the side of his cheek so that he would look at her.

He did. And he never could lie to Hermione's face. "Well," he choked out, "the other day, Ginny said something about—about you and Krum—"

Hermione pulled her hand away. "Viktor, again? Ron—"

"Please, Hermione, at least let me finish."

"Okay," Hermione agreed grudgingly.

"Ginny said you snogged him," Ron stated very quickly, looking down once more.

Hermione leant back on her left foot in a defeated manner. "Oh," she said quietly.

The two stood in the silence of new-fallen dusk for quite some time, until an owl hooted from somewhere inside the forest, causing Ron and Hermione to start.

"We should head back," Ron suggested dejectedly, mourning the fact that Hermione hadn't denied his claim.

"Erm…sure," she said.

They began the long trek to the castle. Stars were beginning to appear in the sky above their heads as darkness encompassed the grounds.

Hermione took in a deep breath and let it out. _Curse Ginny's big mouth. Sure, Viktor _did_ kiss me, but that doesn't mean I _liked_ it! It was _nice._ I…don't like him that way._

"Ron?" she said timidly, breaking the silence.

"Yeah?" he replied wearily.

"Viktor did kiss me, but—"

"I pretty much gathered that, thanks," said Ron exasperatedly.

"_But_ he's not—erm—I mean, I—well…_he's not you_," she all but whispered. Hermione realized she had just revealed all her feelings from the past few years to the one person she was too frightened to tell in the first place; she covered her mouth tightly with both hands, widened her eyes to the point of her eyeballs nearly falling from their sockets, and started running as fast as she could toward the giant stone castle steps.

But Ron caught up with her before she was even one-fourth of the way there. He grasped her forearm, saying, "Hermione! Give a bloke a chance to think!"

Hermione turned to him with watery eyes. "Okay," she consented breathlessly.

"Now," Ron said, catching his own breath, "you really did say Viktor Krum isn't _me_?"

Hermione nodded.

"So you don't like Viktor?"

She shook her head this time, chewing on her bottom lip.

Comprehension dawned on Ron's face. "But you do like me?" he said in a voice of half disbelief, and half glee.

"For Merlin's sake, yes!" Hermione cried. "Can you stop this?"

"I like you too," Ron ignored her plea, grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione was so wrapped up in her desire for the end of Ron's brutal interrogation that this remark didn't register in her mind. "It's killing me!"

"Then you want to kiss me instead?"

Hermione stared at him, bewildered. "What?"

"You mean that you'd like to kiss me, instead of Viktor?" he repeated, waiting eagerly for a response of some sort.

Eyes bulging, she nodded yet again.

"Good," said Ron, "because it's killing me, too." He put his broom-free hand awkwardly around Hermione's waist, and pulled her close.

And yes, then he kissed her.

* * *

A/N: Keep in mind this is my first Ron/Hermione fluff fic when you review. Be honest, but be gentle. A little CC would be awesome. 


	2. Enjoying the Celebrations

**Part Two: Enjoying the Celebrations**

Hermione gasped softly as a tingling sensation swept over her. _Ron is—oh my God, he's _kissing_ me! Snogging, more like… _Ron kissed her more passionately, causing her to sigh into his mouth with happiness.

But something wasn't right with the picture. She had fancied Ron for so long; it was amazing to finally be doing what she wanted with him…but frankly…

He was a terrible kisser. Yes, she probably was just as bad, but _wow_. _It's a weird emotion, feeling pleasure and repulsion at the same time. It'll get better, we'll practice, but for now…_

She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back gently.

Ron, as far as Hermione could tell, was very disappointed, but he complied to her wishes. "What is it, Hermione? Is something wrong?"

"Erm…I think we should go up to the party in the common room. All of Gryffindor's probably waiting to celebrate with their keeper," she lied, smiling flirtatiously.

"Why don't we stay out here awhile? They can wait." He looked toward her hopefully.

"No," Hermione insisted, "I don't want Snape or someone to nab us for being out after-hours."

"Okay," Ron agreed reluctantly, taking her hand in his (albeit awkwardly) as they walked up the stone castle steps, into Hogwarts, and up to Gryffindor Tower.

They climbed through the portrait hole to find an array of red and gold decorations. The whole of Gryffindor had joined in the festivities, driven by the excitement of the victory.

Ron and Hermione edged through the thick crowd and discovered Harry in the center of the room, where Colin Creevey was retelling the capture of the Snitch. Harry was trying to look modest about the ordeal, but was failing miserably. He glanced up to see them coming.

"Hey, I was wondering where you'd gotten to," Harry said. "Er…is everything all right between the two of you, now?"

"Never better," Ron replied, a bit red in the ears. "I think I could do for a butterbeer. Would you like one, Hermione?" He smiled at her.

"Sure," she said breathlessly, as Ron released her hand.

Harry noticed. After Ron had gone, he commented, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

Hermione flushed a brilliant pink. "That he does," she managed to say.

"Why would that be, Hermione?" Harry further questioned, meaning to tease her.

"Ask no questions, Harry, and I'll tell you no lies," said Hermione, despite her uneasiness at this turn of conversation with him. Harry did not speak again, but only smirked knowingly.

* * *

Meanwhile, over at the refreshment table, Ron was waiting for Jack Sloper to open another crate of butterbeer.

"Hi, Ron!" exclaimed a very peppy voice from behind him. He turned around, and there was a heavily made-up face in front of him.

"Hey, Lavender," he greeted her, half-revolving back to lean against the table as he waited.

"Amazing job at the match," she fawned, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Oh, thanks," said Ron, brushing it off.

"_Really_ spectacular," Lavender persisted, placing a hand on his bicep. "You must work out a _lot_."

Ron shifted from her grasp uncomfortably. "Um, yeah, Harry has practices often. They're pretty grueling," he added conversationally. "_Would you hurry up with that butterbeer, Sloper?_" he hissed through gritted teeth, watching the former Quidditch player's futile attempts at opening the crate.

This threat motivated Sloper. Within seconds, Ron had a butterbeer in each hand.

"Oh Ron, how thoughtful of you!" Lavender squealed, reaching for one of them.

"Actually, that one's for Hermione," Ron said, tugging it away.

"Hermione _Granger_?" Lavender scoffed. "Why would you be fetching _her_ a drink?"

"Well, she is one of my best friends," Ron defended Hermione, annoyed at Lavender for holding him up. _Of course I'm getting Hermione a drink. What's Lavender playing at?_

All of a sudden, everything clicked into place. Lavender wanted him to get her drink; she had been sending him—what were in his opinion—the weirdest signals all year, but now it made sense. Too bad for her—now I'm with Hermione…I think. "Later, Lavender," he said, squeezing past her and Dean Thomas.

* * *

"Hey," Hermione greeted Ron once he returned. Harry had excused himself to speak with Neville, though Hermione had her suspicions of his true intention.

Ron handed her a butterbeer, and she took it gratefully. They both sat down on a nearby loveseat. "A total of seven people," she told him, "have come up to me, merely smiling at me. One fourth year even congratulated me, as if _I_ had won the Quidditch match."

"Weird," agreed Ron, popping the cap off his bottle and taking a sip. "What's even weirder," he continued, "was Lavender just trying to latch onto me like a leech."

"Oh," Hermione said curiously. "I did hear an inkling about her liking you."

"How?"

"Girls' dormitory, Ron—it's the place you hear these sorts of things."

"So she…likes…me?"

"I suppose."

Ron looked bewildered. "Wow."

Hermione smacked him on the back of the head. "Don't you think for _one minute_ about going after her, Ron Weasley!"

"And why not?" he joked.

"You're mine." Hermione blushed deeply, hardly believing the words coming out of her mouth.

"I'm what?" he wanted to hear her repeat it.

"You're evil, Ron, for making me say that again!"

"Okay, but what _else_ am I?"

"You're mine," she confirmed bravely.

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," he grinned like an idiot. He stole a quick peck on her cheek.

"Good," she said in relief, also smiling.

Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Gryffindors rejoiced the night away. Or, at least, until Professor McGonagall called the party to a close near midnight, refusing to believe that the first match of the season deserved that much celebration.

* * *

A/N: If you don't like this chapter, I'm sorry…not my best work at all. I don't know much about kissing, either than what I've read in books and fan fiction…sad, but true. Sixteen, and never been kissed. It's not bad, but for my writing purposes, I would like to experience it a _little_.

Whatever.

There's a parody alternative that I will post separately for this part, but there are two more parts of this ficlet to come.


	3. Isn't It Obvious?

**Part Three: Isn't It Obvious?**

"Ron!"

The redhead turned around to view one Harry Potter running down the corridor to catch up with him. He stopped in his tracks as Harry, still running madly, hurried even faster to walk with him.

"So," Harry began once he caught his breath, "how are things?"

Harry had been springing up vague questions on Ron like this one as of late. What Harry meant by this, he did not know.

"Fine," he replied.

"And how's Hermione?" And then Harry would ask him a more specific question, such as in this case. Truth be told, Ron had not been able to get a moment alone with her, for she was ever-dashing off to research or study in the library.

"All right, I guess. Weren't you just with her, for help on your Charms essay?" said Ron sharply.

"Oh, yeah," Harry replied, frowning slightly.

"The jig is up, Harry—what's going on? Every time you see me, you seem to ask me about her. I might be slow, but even I'm not _that_ thick!"

"I have my reasons," said Harry authoritatively.

"Which are?"

"Merlin, you're blind!"

Ron raised a questioning eyebrow at this comment.

"You…and Hermione…" Harry hinted, finally cluing Ron in.

"Well, what about it?" Ron asked sheepishly, his ears turning slightly red—a dead giveaway that something was _definitely_ going on between Hermione and him.

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry asked enigmatically.

Ron looked at Harry strangely. "Obvious?"

Harry sighed impatiently. "You like Hermione. Hermione likes you. Everyone knows that, Ron, and I tell you this with all sincerity."

This was news to Ron. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "How could everyone know what we're feeling inside?"

"You make it apparent, with your constant bickering and what not."

"Then I guess I'm surprised people haven't started making bets about us."

Harry only laughed uneasily at Ron's observation. As they rounded the corner, they ran into Zacharias Smith and Justin Finch-Fletchey, who were counting Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

"So that's two Galleons and four Knuts from Susan Bones, and then ten Sickles from Ernie McMillan—oof!"

"Hey Harry, Ron," Justin managed to get out, trying to hide the money from Ron's view.

"We—er—were just—"

"That is to say—"

"Spill it, guys," Ron said at last.

"We're collecting for—um—St. Mungo's?" Zacharias suggested.

"Oh, fine—Ron, we were wondering, around this time last year," Justin began confessing, "just when you and Hermione would get together…"

"And so were the rest of the Hufflepuffs," Zacharias added. "Er—and the Ravenclaws…"

"The majority of the wonderers were of Gryffindor, but we had a decent number of Slytherins counted in—"

"In what?" Ron pressed.

"In a bet," the two Hufflepuffs said simultaneously.

"Well," Ron said edgily. "Guess that answers my question." He turned on his heel and strode away from Harry, Justin, and Zacharias.

"What's up with Ron?" Justin asked Harry. "I thought he'd have a worse reaction than that."

"Quite a simple story," Harry allowed. "One I won't share, for not even I truly understand it. How much is it I owe you?"

"Only a Galleon; you were one of those who predicted it would happen by the end of the summer. Hey, have you seen Colin Creevey lately? He put in quite a considerable wager for Hermione's birthday _last_ year…"

* * *

Hermione was sitting down in her home away from home—the library, reading _Advanced Potion-Making_ very intently. So intently, she only noticed Ron had sat down next to her when he carelessly dumped his book sack on the only clear spot of her table.

"Hi," she smiled. Under normal circumstances, Hermione would have reprimanded him for nearly messing up her school things, but she didn't see such an argument-inducing comment to be fit in a time she was actually _getting along_ with Ron. _And getting along is a nice change_, Hermione thought.

"Hey," Ron greeted her back. "Just got away from Harry—he's been interrogating me mercilessly lately."

"You too?" Hermione was not surprised.

"Yeah." Both laughed nervously, and quiet overcame them for a moment, until Hermione brought up something that had recently been on her mind.

"Erm…Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Did you still want to go to Slughorn's Christmas party…together?"

This took Ron by surprise. "Uh—of course!"

"All right then," she resolved.

After a few minutes, when Hermione had turned back to Advanced Potion-Making, Ron asked, "What do I wear?"

Hermione giggled faintly. "Your dress robes," she replied.

"Oh, okay…"

"I just thought it was sort of obvious…"

"Er…right, obvious." Ron felt himself heat up as he remembered all Harry had told him.

"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked in concern.

"No," Ron said, a bit more defensively than he had intended.

"No need to snap, Ron," she reminded him.

"I wasn't…" _The constant bickering. _Merlin_, Harry._

"You weren't _what_?" Hermione pushed.

"I didn't mean to snap, sorry," he apologized lowly.

"It's okay," Hermione forgave him, resting her hand on top of his, which was lying on the table—quite the bold move on her part.

The tips of Ron's ears tinged red for the second time that day as she began tracing the outlines of his palm with her thumb absently, reading up poisons in her book all the while.

He couldn't very well _concentrate_ on the book he had pulled from his bag when she did that…it was indescribably distracting. Not that Ron minded being distracted right then. In fact, he could think of nothing else he'd like more. Yet he had a damn good idea of _how_ he wanted to be distracted, and hands were only a small part of what he wished to do with Hermione.

The trouble, though, was asking Hermione. Yes, she might want to, but she was so anal about her school work…

Merlin, Ron mused, I've kissed her before; why am I still nervous around her? How hard could it be to do it again? What if I bite the bullet and go for it? What's the worst that could happen?

Ron looked around the library warily. The only person there, it seemed, was Madam Pince, who was checking books in at her desk.

He turned back round to see Hermione packing her things up, previously having let go of his hand.

"I finished the chapter," she explained. "Coming?"

He was still sitting in his seat, looking a bit dumbstruck. "Uh…sure," he agreed shakily, realizing that he finally would have the chance to tell Hermione—or rather, show her—what exactly was on his mind on the long trip to Gryffindor tower.

They exited the library side-by-side and took a left. The absence of Hermione's hand in his was becoming more and more distracting to Ron with every step they took down the dimly-lit corridor. It was more distracting even, than actually holding it.

"Hermione?" She turned to him, her now-glossy curls bouncing as she did so.

"Yes?"

"I was w-wondering…"

"_Yes_?"

He couldn't very well _say_ it! Did he even have to ask? _Oh, what the hell._

It was a different kiss than the last time, in Ron's opinion. It was better—perhaps _he_ was getting better…

* * *

Hermione broke the kiss abruptly. "Sorry, Ron," she said hastily. "I've just remembered I need to see Professor Flitwick about the Charms essay—"

"—that's not due for a week," Ron finished. "It can wait, can't it?"

"No, I don't think so…"

"Merlin," Ron said in disbelief, "if I didn't know you better, Hermione, I'd say you were trying to avoid kissing me."

Hermione laughed nervously. _He's catching on! Not good._ "Well—erm—I'll be going up to Transfiguration, then—"

"I thought you were going to see Flitwick?" Ron reminded her sharply.

"Yes, right, so—"

Hermione was halted in her speech as Ron grabbed her round the waist with one arm and clasped his opposite hand over her mouth.

"You," he began, "are not going anywhere until you explain to me just _why_ you've been avoiding the issue of kissing me as if I were the plague."

This was quite thrilling to Hermione—very…rousing (she flushed slightly pink at this notion), actually, being held nearly flush against her not-so-secret love of five years.

"Um," she started. _How do I tell him that kissing him isn't as pleasurable as I thought it'd be?_

As it turned out, Hermione didn't have to tell him. "It's my kissing, isn't it?" he asked, his face falling.

When Hermione only looked to her feet shamefully, Ron knew the answer. "Guess nothing can help that," he shrugged, letting her go and starting to walk away.

"Oh, _wait_, Ron!" Hermione cried to his retreating back.

He twisted half-way around. "Yeah?"

"It's not that I don't fancy you—you _know_ I do—but—"

"But I bloody fail as a kisser in your mind. I don't have any experience," he said disgustedly, sinking against the wall of the corridor.

"Not quite," Hermione told him in a small voice. He shook his head in disagreement and turned it away from her.

She knelt next to him and cupped his face in her hand. He wouldn't look at her. "Don't shut me out, Ron," she warned him sternly. "That's the last thing we need—and definitely the last thing Harry needs."

When her attempts at reconciliation with Ron didn't work, Hermione dropped her hand to her side helplessly.

_Fine_, she grumbled to herself. _I suppose I'll have to take matters into my own hands._

_Oh, what the hell?_

Hermione kissed Ron with as much feeling as she could muster. _It's not so bad…_

She heard footsteps fast-approaching and broke away from Ron, blushing. He was grinning like an idiot, but when Lavender Brown came into view, his smile faded.

Lavender was giving the couple before her a look of pure loathing. "Well, well, well…_this_ is going to be interesting," she said with relish.

"And what," Hermione said, standing up to her full height threateningly (she had a good two inches on Lavender), "do you mean by that, Lavender?"

"Oh, I think you know, Hermione, that I , of course, must report the fact you and your classmate were partaking in a snogging session right in the middle of a corridor to the whole of Gryffindor, including Professor McGonagall," Lavender quipped, tossing her golden mane back sassily.

Hermione was about to retort when she noticed something peculiar about her opponent. Indeed, many of Lavender's pores were sprouting pus-filled pimples all over her perfectly-painted face. Hermione had to bite back a hearty laugh as Lavender, too, realized what was happening to her.

"Ew! Ew! Get them off me!" she screeched, running up the nearest staircase, most likely ascending to Gryffindor tower to find Parvati, who, Hermione was sure, could put Lavender right again. Hermione turned back to Ron to see him doubling over with mirth.

"Fred and George," he choked out in explanation for Lavender's current facial mishap.

"Ron!" she gasped. "She'll certainly tell a teacher."

"She hasn't got any proof I've done it to her," he reminded Hermione.

"But what of her threat about our snogging? We shouldn't have; what kind of example are we as prefects?"

"For starters, Lavender seems to have a bad case of short-term memory loss. For another thing—I believe _you_ were the one who was snogging _me_ when Lavender caught us." He smirked at her, knowing that for once, he was the right one.

"Ronald Weasley!" Hermione shrieked exasperatedly. "Well, I suppose that is true," she added in a quieter tone after some consideration.

Ron smiled yet again. "Of course, that's my story if Lavender actually does remember to tell McGonagall."

"You really are impossible, you know that?"

"I think it's why you like me so much."

"And what makes you think I fancy you _that_ much?" Hermione wanted to know.

Ron smirked again. "Oh, it's just a bit obvious."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and he took her hand once again as they began walking to the Great Hall for supper. Little did our favorite couple know, much would happen next week at the Slug Club's holiday get-together, all under the influence of butterbeer.

* * *

A/N: Long-awaited, I know. Lots of stuff has been happening, most of which I have no control over. Thanks for the great number of you who have encouraged me that kissing shouldn't be that important, and that I should wait for the right person, and the right time. I totally love y'all! This part of the ficlet is quite a bit longer than the others so far, so I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it. This is also the SECOND TO LAST part of "If Things Were Different." So, stay tuned for the next and FINAL part…yeah, no idea when it'll be out… Patience, my young padawans.

Love,

Christine

P.S. Hilary, you know me too well, don't you?


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